


The Missing Finger, or The Diary of Jason Dean: Part 1

by Gribby



Series: The Missing Finger, or The Diary of Jason Dean [1]
Category: Heathers (1988)
Genre: Gen, Some of these characters don't appear in this part, Some other characters may also feature later on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-12
Updated: 2016-11-12
Packaged: 2018-08-30 13:45:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8535454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gribby/pseuds/Gribby
Summary: This follows on from the film. Essentially, J.D is still alive, but considering suicide. Things will hopefully become clearer if you read it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello folks. This is written as if it's J.D's diary. Hopefully, it will be the first in a series. By the way, I'm English, so apologies if there are things in here that no American would ever say. I've only ever met three Americans, as far as I can remember, so I'm not exactly sure if this American enough.

Dear Diary,  
This is my first and last entry. Veronica Sawyer keeps a diary- an interesting read. I never knew she could be so eloquent. Mind you, there are a lot of things I never knew about Ms. Sawyer. One thing I did know is that she wasn't dead.  
I knew from the beginning Veronica wasn't really dead- I knew the noose was too loose- look at me, I’m a fucking poet! Rhyming. I could add a line about a moose, or a goose, say- nah, definitely a moose- got a better ring to it. That’s just what that needs. Maybe I’ll write it down some day. Anyway, after she blew up *ha blew up* such a fuss about those two dead dweebs- Kurt and Ram (I mean what kind of a name is Ram? That’s a sodding sheep), I was worried she didn’t love me anymore, or perhaps she never even loved me in the first place. I thought I’d put her love to the test.  
Spun her some yarn about blowing up the school. Don’t get me wrong, part of me was desperate to destroy the place- that speech I gave Veronica wasn’t just a load of made-up spiel. Inequality is omnipresent. It doesn’t matter what school you go to, or in what state it’s in, the different ‘clics’ never seem to cooperate with one and other.  
I’d been planning this thing since Veronica dumped me, so I’d already made that... ‘fake-fake’ petition, if that would be a suitable name for it. I just had to prepare the bomb. Thought it was rather convincing, if I do so say myself, though what a palava I had setting it up. My forté is explosives, but alas I must admit faux explosives are much more difficult to work with. I shan’t bore you with the details, but essentially I concealed a smoke machine and a sound recording from one of my father's demolition jobs inside a façade of ‘explosives’ I had one of the more artistic students make for me (alright, I admit I may have blackmailed her) along with a small charge- not enough to kill anyone, but enough to make the explosion more convincing.  
My plan wasn’t infallible (surprising, isn’t it?)- if Veronica had been more observant, it would have been perfectly possible for her to notice the bomb was a dud, but I knew she wouldn't- I mean no offense intended, but she’s hardly the sharpest knife in the box (come on, she actually believed me about those ‘Ich lüge’ bullets- must be my charisma).  
Her fake hanging only served to assist my plan- allowed me to plant the seed. Bitch, actually thought I would kill her. I loved her- guess I still do (though heaven knows why). I thought she fucking loved me. Bitch. She fucking shot me! She shot me twice! She shot my bloody finger off! That wasn’t part of the plan. Still, it does give me a rather roguish look, don’t you think? There’s something vaguely piratical about having a missing finger.  
The idea was that Veronica would try and talk me out of committing suicide, thus proving her love for me. I would then proceed to ‘blow myself up,’ the smoke providing a screen to mask my getaway. On Monday, I would sallie on in to school, and surprise her, and the pair of us would waltz off into the metaphorical sunset. Guess it was naîeve of me to expect her to care: no-one else loves me, why should she be any different?  
But why did she have to shoot me?! I almost died! Got myself to E.R sharpish (stole someone’s Chevvy). Had to have an emergency op. Lucky my dad’s loaded- cost an arm and a leg (or at least a finger). Not sure why I bothered. Should have just let myself bleed out, but I guess I needed control over my death- I didn't have any control over Mum’s suicide- she didn’t even leave a note.

 

I have control now. The knife’s in my hand, and this is my suicide note. All I have to do is plunge the blade into my abdomen, and... perfecto. Just like that. Come on, J.D. I guess I should have just used a real bomb. It would have been so much easier. It’s not like me to be nervous, but I guess I am. SHIT… Someone's at the door. Who the hell could it be? They're coming in. Farewell cruel world...

**Author's Note:**

> This may seem like the end, but hopefully it's not. Please let me know your thoughts. If it's terrible, I'll stop. The misspelling of clique is deliberate, as it's spelt like that on J.D's fake petition.


End file.
